


Blood and Magic

by Teao



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-03-25 21:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teao/pseuds/Teao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An original character based, A/U story using characters from both the Tortall and Harry Potter universes.</p>
<p>A portal between Tortall and this world opens up a whole new world of possibilities. There are more kinds of magic than most of us know...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cassia

**Author's Note:**

> An original character based story using characters from both the Tortall and Harry Potter universes.
> 
> A portal between Tortall and this world opens up a whole new world of possibilities.
> 
> I am using Tortall and Potter settings and characters for this work of fiction, but it is A/U. Some things to know:
> 
> Tortall: I have developed the idea of the gift to be more restrictive. Mages have one, two or three talents within which their magic operates, like healing, scrying or water magic. Numair, has (as far as I can count!) five talents. Don't mages always have to be so difficult!
> 
> Potter: Epilogue? I never saw any epilogue... And the last battle may be a little hazy too!

 

Chapter One: Cassia

 

It was the story everyone was talking about that day. The fear that no one ever knew they had before. A cacophony of 'I told you so' and 'well, I always knew something like this would happen.'

An eighteen year old girl had killed a man- stopped his heart- with a single touch. The fact that the man had been about to rape her was apparently lost in the national gasp of amazement that such a thing could happen, and the subsequent decision that such a thing should not be, could not be possible. Magic wasn't really real, was it? people asked.

Magic wasn't an unkown, not anymore. Not for fifty years, when a whole new world opened up. A student mage, determined to create a portal to Cathark. His intentions only came to light when he was found surrounded by his scribbled notes, beside a pulsing rift, stone dead.

Just like that, suddenly, what became the Hall of the Portal at the Palace in Corus, Tortall, led to a nondescript terraced house in the mid-parts of England. And then, as could only be expected, people started to move.

Cassia Greene did not appreciate the four am phone call, even if it was from no less a personage than Prince Liam himself.

She appreciated even less his news. Following the events of the previous day, the sudden death of the rapist, people were scared. To calm fears, the British government had rushed through legislation to ensure that all gifted persons were registered, their magic known and the information available to interested parties. It was enough to make even Cassia, born and bred in the new world, consider a return to Tortall.

After her short night's sleep, it came as no great surprise that Cassia was decidedly grumpy as she arrived at work the next morning. She threw her handbag under her desk and stalked off to find her boss.

"Connie in yet?" she offered by way of greeting to the head librarian's personal assistant, Sam.

"Umm, yeah, she is," he responded hesitantly, "but…" Cassia didn't even wait for his response. She opened the door, walking straight into a meeting between Connie and John, the dean of the college.

Constance Fairweather was younger than her name would suggest, probably not quite forty, friendly and fair with her staff. "Hello, Cassia," she greeted, turning away from John, "Can it wait five minutes? I won't be long."

"If you don't mind," Cassia said, "I may as well say it now, since you'll both have to know. I've been told I have to disclose that I'm Tortallan, and gifted."

The ensuing silence suggested that neither Connie or John had expected this. It was John who eventually broke the stunned silence. "What's your Tortallan name, and your fief?" he asked.

"Cassia Lucinda Ceilidh of Susannah Lake and Cat's Peak," she responded.

John surprised both Cassia and Connie by immediately jumping to his feet and dropping into a low bow. "Your Grace," he murmured.

"Sit down, Cassia," Connie said distractedly, her eyes fixed on John. "I take it you know the name, John?"

"I do indeed," he replied. "My father was of Trebond, not far from Susannah Lake,"

"Allies, then?" Cassia asked, smiling. It looked like this might be better than she'd thought- she hadn't expected to find another Tortallan at work, let alone one who was in a position to make life easier for her.

"Yes, my Lady," he replied.

"Well, for a start, Cassia is fine," she said. "my job here is the same, I'm only a duchess in Tortall." John nodded, still looking a little awestruck.

"So, your magic," Connie interrupted. "Does it affect your work at all? And will you be taking to killing anyone?"

Cassia quirked an eyebrow. At least it was a joke, she reasoned. She could have been fired then and there over fears for the safety of the students. She was pretty sure that some mages employed in the new world may find themselves out of a job. "I shouldn't affect my work," she assured them. "I don't think it ever has before. I'm talented in truth telling and battle magic. Neither are exactly useful in librarianship." She paused to think. "I could tell if a student was lying about having returned a book, I suppose…"

"Could you find hidden or lost books?" Connie asked curiously.

Cassia shook her head. "Books don't think, they don't have intentions. It's the thinking process and the intentions that I can read. if someone walked past me at the moment I was using my gift and was thinking about their books, then I could, but that's not very likely to happen."

"Pity. Oh well. Thanks for letting me know, Cassia. I'll see you later- I wanted to talk to you about the changes to the modules in the humanities department."

Cassia nodded. She shut the door softly behind her, and leaned back against it with a sigh. That had been easier than she thought.


	2. Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new character to introduce you to, and a major one! There will be some Tortallan friends along in the next couple of chapters too.

Cassia watched as the stack of paper toppled off Sam's desk for the second time in as many minutes. It was possible that he was just particularly clumsy today, but the sudden burst of activity from the pages as he reached for them made that unlikely. It looked like a wind was blowing only by his desk. He huffed in frustration. She put down the cup she was washing, and went to help.

Crouching, she gathered the paper into a pile for him. "Get you gift under control," she hissed, covering her words with a loud shuffle of paper to conceal them from anyone else. "You're going to do some damage otherwise." This close, when she concentrated, she could feel the bursts of power flaring off him like little puffs of electricity brushing her skin.

"What do you mean?" he whispered back, puzzled. Was it possible- did he not know he was gifted? No, she thought, far more likely that he was unwilling to admit that he was, and have to register.

"Come with me," she muttered, setting his paperwork firmly back on his desk, well away from the edge to try to prevent further mishap. The frustration of a third time sorting it out would do nothing to calm his magic.

He was still looking at her in confusion, but followed her out obediently. The tiny office she shared was luckily empty. "What's going on?" Cassia asked him. "Your gift is flaring out- why is your control slipping?"

"Gift? I don't have magic," he snapped. "I'm not even Tortallan."

She sighed. "Sam, I hate this new Tortallan registration as much as the next person. I'm not going to turn you in- as long as you get yourself under control. The last thing we need is a magic flare when there are students around!"

"I seriously have no idea what you mean," he replied. "I'm not Tortallan. I don't have magic." He turned to the door, reached for the handle, and promptly fell to the floor. He clutched his head in his hands, gasping in pain. "What's happening?" he choked out.

She knelt beside him, releasing the catch on her bracelet. It was a silver chain, containing amethyst and citrine within the links. The citrines captured magical power, and the amethysts protected and stabilised it. The whole thing was finished off with tiny runes to bind the power etched into the silver. Cassia used it to store extra reserves of power. She folded it in her hands, pulling the energy inside it into herself with a few practiced breaths. "Here," she said, pooling the jewelry into one of his palms, closing his fingers around it before he raised the hand to his head again. "This will help. Imagine a well of light inside you, where your heart is. try to slow and deepen your breathing, and with every exhale, imagine a little piece of the light flowing down your arm, into your hand, and out into the bracelet."

She counted out his breaths for him, keeping her voice as low and soft as she could. At least a library was a quiet enough place that there wasn't anything to distract him.

After about six breaths, she could see him relaxing. Within a minute, he'd dropped his hands away from his head, and after two, there was a faint glow as the bracelet took on his excess power. "Feeling better?" she asked softly. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

"Yes. What happened? What was that?" he looked down, and noticed the fading glow in the stones he held. He yelped and dropped the bracelet, the links clinking as they hit the floor.

"That's your gift," she explained gently. "Your magic was out of control, overflowing. By siphoning some off, you brought it down enough to stop acting up. The flying paper and the pain in your head were just your gift flaring."

"I've been having headaches for a month," he admitted. "But I still don't understand how I can have magic. You must be wrong."

"Are you sure one of your parents isn't Tortallan?" she asked. "Half blood tortallans can inherit the gift- I did. And it can skip multiple generations, so even if your parents or grandparents aren't gifted, they may still carry the ability to pass it on."

"So it's hereditary?" he asked.

"Yes. It follows family lines- the colour of the gift corresponds to the line it comes from. Sometimes it manifests in the colour of eyes as well. The gift can always be traced back through lineage. It simply doesn't manifest of it's own accord."

"But neither of my parents it Tortallan. They never told me they were Tortallan. They're from Coventry." An application of her own gift told her he was telling the truth. As far as he knew, he was not Tortallan.

"Where do your parents live?" she asked. "Can we go to visit them?"

"I still live at home, with my mum," he admitted. "but how can I ask her that? If they've never told me, there must be a reason!" His voice rose in consternation.

"I can ask," she soothed, worried that he was starting to panic again. "Will she be home tonight? If I come home with you, would that be okay? And where do you live, anyway.

He named a nearby town, only about twenty minutes away. "Do you want to come straight over with me when we finish then?" he asked.

She glanced at the clock. "If that's okay. It's half past four now, so you'd better let them know you'll have company. I need to go and finish up some work, but I'll come and find you at five?"

He nodded, and tried to hand her back the bracelet. "Keep it," she advised. "Until we sort out your magic and get some barriers up, you can repeat the same exercise to draw off your power. It can hold more than you put in it by a long way."

 

***

 

Forty minutes later, Cassia leant against the door jamb of his office, watching him shut down his computer and fuss with various items on his desk. "Anyone would think you were stalling for time," she commented wryly. He blushed. "Sam! You're nervous!" She grinned. "Don't worry, I won't bite!"

"I know," he said quietly. "I've just… never brought a girl home before. My mum might get the wrong impression."

"Don't worry, I have no intention of misleading her," she assured him.

He smiled, still looking worried, and stood up. "Well, I suppose you'd better follow me home then," he said.

"A confession: I don't drive. You okay to give me a lift?"

"You don't drive?" he repeated, confused, locking the door behind them.

"Nope. Tried to learn, hated it. It makes me angry, and i'm not very safe when i'm angry. I've had my share of magic flares too."

"What is your magic, anyway?" he asked. "I think there are different kinds of magic?"

"Yes, they're called talents. I'm a truth teller and a battle mage. Battle magic isn't very useful, day to day, but certain aspects of it help me with things- i'm good at protections, for example, and healing, to an extent, is part of battle magic, since battles usually include injuries. I use my truth telling far more- it lets me know when people are lying, or a danger to me, and it can let me alter people's perceptions of things slightly. I can make them forget things, or hear things that aren't physically there."

"That sounds a bit… scary," he admitted, unlocking a little blue car. He swept a pile of chocolate wrappers, two newspapers and a book off the passenger seat so she could get in.

"It definitely has it's uses, but you may be relieved to know I don't use it much to influence people, or to access their thoughts unless I have to."

"Access their thoughts? As in read minds?" He sounded shocked, and rightly so. People had often found that element of truth telling shocking. Sometimes, the thought of having someone else in your mind could be more worrying than the knowledge that Cassia was able to stop whole armies.

"Actually reading minds takes a lot of power. It's easier to hear what people actually want me to hear, but there aren't many truth tellers who can access thoughts that their subject doesn't want to share."

"Are you one of those that can?" he asked quietly.

"I am," she admitted, "but it exhausts me, so I don't exactly do it for fun."

He drove in silence for a while, obviously digesting this information. Cassia watched the fields roll past, waiting for him to ask his next question.

"So," he said at length, "what kind of magic do I have?"

"I have no idea yet," she replied, pleased that he was talking in definites now, apparently accepting his gift. "The easiest way to find out is a sensor mage- they can tell what talents other mages have. Other than that, you can just test various types of magic to see what works."

"Why would you test it instead of seeing a sensor mage?" he asked. "Sounds like it would take a while."

"Sensing is a rare talent, more so than either of mine, and truth tellers aren't exactly ten a penny. A lot of gifted people may not know a sensor, and since most mages have their gifts noticed in childhood, the things they can do develop naturally. I set my crib on fire a few times- my father thought I was a fire mage at first, but when I started telekinetically hurling objects as missiles when I got upset, he figured out that I was a battle mage. Truth telling was easy- there was no way I was going to believe in Santa Claus or the tooth fairy. I gather having a child that screamed when you told an untruth wasn't pleasant."

The corners of Sam's mouth quirked in a little grin. She was probably right, he thought. He pulled the car into the driveway of an average semi detached house, and turned the car off, but didn't immediately move. "I'm frightened," he admitted quietly.

"What's there to be afraid of?"

"Maybe I'm adopted, maybe my parents aren't my parents."

"Even if that's the case, they're still your parents," Cassia assured him. "The people who raise you and love you are your family. Blood may be thicker than water, but it's love that matters." She laid one hand on his, resting on the gearstick, and he looked up at her and smiled wanly.

"Here goes," he said, and climbed out.

Sam's mother had invited Cassia to stay for tea almost before she got through the front door. Sam muttered something about getting changed and left her with his smiling, hospitable, but slightly confused mother, Katie.

"Sam's never brought a girl home before," she whispered conspiratorially, leading Cassia through to the living room.

"So he said," Cassia replied. "But he hasn't brought me home in any romantic capacity, I assure you."

Katie's face fell a little. She worried about her son never finding love. "Still, it's nice to meet a colleague of his. He doesn't talk about people at work much- I worry about him being shy."

"He is shy, but well liked," Cassia assured her. "This may be easier if I just explain exactly why I'm here, instead of leaving you guessing. I'm presuming Sam hasn't told you?" Katie shook her head, so Cassia took a deep breath and continued. "I'm Cassia of Susannah Lake- a Tortallan. I've noticed that Sam is gifted, but he insists that he has no Tortallan ancestry. I'm sorry if I uncover any family secrets, but if you or his father are Tortallan, or your parents were, I need to know. The gift has never been seen in someone from the new world with no gifted ancestry. If it's somehow manifesting, that's something worrying."

Katie blanched. Cassia continued on regardless. "I know there are Tortallans avoiding the registration laws for one reason or another. I'm not here in any capacity to report you, or make you register, but an untrained, unguarded gift can be very dangerous. Sam's starting to flare, and it's unpredictable. He could seriously hurt himself or someone around him. He needs training."

Katie jumped up and started pacing. Sam peeked into the room, seemingly decided that he had no choice but to come in, then perched on the edge of the sofa.

"What would happen to him, if he is gifted?" Katie quietly asked.

Cassia shook her head. "It's not if. He is gifted. I don't quite know why it's taken this long to manifest- the gift usually shows itself in toddlerhood. He needs to be trained."

"I paid someone to take his magic away," Katie whispered. "Why did it come back?"

Cassia closed her eyes and sighed. He'd been leeched. It explained why he hadn't shown signs of the gift until now. Whoever had been siphoning off his magic had obviously stopped recently- either they had another source, or they had died. Leeching magic was illegal, and morally repugnant. The gift was tied to life force in mages, so taking too much magic could literally kill them, as surely as draining blood. The gifted had protections and limits placed on their magic as children, to make sure they didn't overextend, and Cassia wasn't the only mage to carry small stores of her own siphoned magic around, in case she needed them in times of crisis. It also explained why Sam's gift grew outside the amount he could hold- his magic didn't know it's own limits, having probably never reached them in years, and having not developed capacity over time.

"Does his gift come from you?" Cassia asked Katie quietly. Sam's mother shook her head. "So his father's Tortallan?"

"Yes," she said, "But Sam, I'm sorry, your dad isn't actually… that is… well, I had an affair. Your dad doesn't know," she finally blurted

Cassia glanced at Sam, looking for his reaction. She knew it was close to what he had first presumed, that he was adopted, but perhaps an even more hurtful lie. He was wide eyed, unsure. She pressed Katie further. "Who is Sam's biological father, Katie? Do you still know him?"

She sobbed. "No, we lost contact. I was on holiday, just a couple of weeks at the seaside. He was married too, had a baby, but he and his wife weren't getting on. One thing led to another… he left me his phone number. When I had Sam, I rang, I told him. He came to visit a couple of times, and the last time he came, Sam started playing with these balls of light. James told me… he explained. His daughter had the magic too, he said, even though he didn't. He helped me find someone to take the magic away."

"Do you know the rest of his name?" Cassia asked.

"Greene," she said. "James Greene. I have a photo, somewhere…" she was digging in a drawer in the sideboard. Cassia's ears were ringing, but she knew that Katie was telling the truth. "We used to talk, once or twice a year, but he stopped calling, oh, about seven or eight years ago," she said, handing Cassia a photo.

"He stopped calling because he died. This is my father."

Cassia concentrated on bringing her body back under her control, bringing her heart rate and breathing down. Slowly, the ringing in her ears quietened, and she began to think. Both Katie and Sam were silent.

"Sam, I think you need to come home with me," she said at last. "Whoever was leeching your gift has stopped for some reason, and if the Susannah Lake gift came through as strongly in you as it did in me, you could cause some serious damage."

Katie gasped, and moved to hug her son, but he pushed her away. "You lied to me!" he spat. His fingers were sparking.

"Sam!" Cassia crossed the room in two strides, grabbing his shoulders. "You need to calm down. Breathe." If proof was needed that their gifts were from the same source, here it was: the tiny lightning bolts around his hands were bright turquoise. Hoping that his magic would be similar enough to hers, Cassia took his hands in hers.

The magic running through her felt like a low level electric shock- not painful, but surprising nonetheless. ' _Sam, breathe_ ,' she projected into his mind. 'Just like before.'

She could feel his anger closing through him. He made no effort to conceal his thoughts. They didn't form coherent sentences. ' _Lies. Stole it. Lied!_ ' In direct contact with him, Cassia couldn't help but hear. His gifted mind was completely unprotected, and the blood and gift ties made it harder to block out his thoughts.

Cassia had never had any reason to leech someone else's gift from them before. But she knew how to place her own magic into objects, like the bracelet, and knew how to pull the power back out. The act of pulling power out of Sam was similar enough.

Sam was calming down, and his thoughts were retreating as he waves of power stopped crashing over him. He sunk to the sofa, his knees shaking.

"You… you were glowing!" Katie breathed. "Both of you- glowing blue!"

"Susannah lake magic is turquoise," Cassia corrected. "it's a combination of what's now known as Conte magic, and the Queenscove gift." she looked down at Sam, who was even more pale than usual, but now looked more ready to face the world. "Are you a bit calmer?" she asked.

"Yeah, I feel more normal now."

"I'm sorry, I leeched off some of your magic. it was the fastest way to bring it back down into the ranges you can deal with. Your body went into fight-or-flight, so you produced a lot of extra power."

He nodded, and glanced at his mother, still trying to make herself inconspicuous in a corner. "You said I could come with you?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Let me pack some clothes, then can we go?"

"Yes, we can. I'll ring for a taxi whilst you pack," she offered

"I can drive," he assured Cassia, standing. She didn't look convinced, but he insisted. Driving would take his mind of it, he rationalised, and he wanted to not think about the events of the last few minutes.

"Sit," Cassia said to Katie, when he had gone. "you've had a shock too."

She crept forward to perch on the other end of the sofa to the younger woman. "I only wanted to protect him," she offered.

"I know. Right now, I'm more angry at my own father. he was Tortallan, and he had a duty to Sam. Leeching someone's gift without their consent is terrible, and it's illegal in Tortall. It's one of the laws that was brought in here, to apply to Tortallans, but I hardly imagined that anyone needed telling."

"Did I hurt him?" she asked.

"Yes. No one wants to admit to an affair, and a child from one, but he's furious with you for lying, and for stealing his gift. I'd imagine he'll be able to see your side of it soon enough- just be patient."

"Just look after him," she murmured as Sam clumped down the stairs.

"Ready?" he called from the hall.

Cassia stood. "I will. And thank you for looking after my brother all these years." She quickly folded katie in a brief hug, and went to find Sam. he was slinging his duffel bag into the back of the car, before climbing in and waiting for Cassia to join him. Katie waved, trying to force a smile, but he didn't respond.

They didn't talk about what had happened on the drive home. Sam concentrated on the road and Cassia's directions, banishing thoughts of family from his head. He was still scared about his suddenly appearing new powers though. "So what happens now?" he asked eventually

"We're going to Tortall tomorrow, " Cassia said. "I don't know who might be in Corus at the moment, but hopefully there's a Sensor mage there. Numair is usually at court, and he's the best. He can help with teaching you to deal with your gift too."

"What about work?" he asked.

"Well, it's Friday tomorrow. You're going to call in sick, and I get a lot of leeway these days for stuff like this. There are some Tortallans high up in the college hierarchy, and I have a fief to run. We'll see what happens tomorrow. Maybe we'll have you back at work Monday, maybe not. we'll see. If you need to be off a while, we'll get you signed off."

He laughed, a short, barking laugh. "What would you sign me off with? Say that my magic is sick?"

She shrugged. "Why not? Well, unless you don't want people knowing. We'll find something."

"Will this mean I have to register?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. "But in return, you get the protection offered by the new laws." The legislation had been amended to add gifted status to the list of traits that could not be discriminated against, like gender and race.

"What would have happened," he said quietly after a while, "If you hadn't noticed?"

She considered the question. "Your reaction this afternoon was extreme, because of the situation you were placed in. But eventually, your magic would have built up to something similar. You'd have started setting fire to things, or flooding them, or whatever form your talents take. If that didn't bleed off enough, you would probably not be able to contain it all, eventually. I've never known anyone to die of an excess of magic, but I don't see why it couldn't happen. Oh, left here… it's down at the end of the road, on the right."

He drew up outside her house. "Thanks," he said quietly. "For not letting me die."

"Silly. Let's go inside."

Sam trailed upstairs after Cassia. She pointed out the bathroom and her bedroom, then led him into the spare room. Between them, they soon had the spare bed made up, but sometime in the process, tears began to trail down Sam's cheeks. After they had spread the duvet out, Cassia perched on the bed and patted the mattress beside her. Sniffling, Sam sat, and she pulled him in, holding him. He tried to squirm away at first, but very quickly decided that he needed the human contact.

"I never knew I had a half brother," Cassia said gently. "but it would appear I have. You were concerned that you'd find out you were adopted. I suppose you were half right."

He buried his head in her shoulder. "What if my dad hates me, because I'm not his?"

"Did you know that I have a stepmother?" she asked. "I'm not hers, by blood, but she loves me as much as her other children. She doesn't understand how I have a life that spans both worlds so she does her best to ignore everything Tortallan, but she still loves me. I would hope that your dad feels the same about you. Like I said earlier, love matters more to families than blood."


	3. Tortall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Familiar Tortallans for you, now that you've met my two main originals! There will be some Potterverse arriving soon too, I promise!

Luck was with them. Numair was at court. They found him in his overcrowded workroom, and Cassia placed Sam under his mercy whilst she dispatched a convenient page to find Raoul of Goldenlake and Baird of Queenscove. There was something else that had been playing on her mind, ever since she had found out that she had a brother, and the guardians her father had appointed for her before his death were the best people to advise her. Both of the great men had known her since she was a child; they knew her situation and her temperament. They wouldn't lead her wrong.

Both understood her concern as soon as she explained that Sam was her father's child. Raoul plonked his considerable weight into Daine's favourite chair and leaned forwards, his elbows on his knees. "Have you told him yet?" he asked quietly. Cassia shook her head and settled herself on the floor near him. he ruffled her hair

"You need to see the King," Baird advised, staring into the fireplace. He was right. Lands and titles in Tortall passed through the male line, and only in the absence of a male heir did they pass to the female. Cassia held her second fief, Cat's Peak in her own right, but if Sam were recognised as the son of James of Susannah Lake, that would make him the Duke, and Cassia would lose her lands, even though she was the elder of the two.

"Ah, Baird, I thought I heard you. Just the man!" Numair said, poking his head out from his workroom. "Come and have a look at this boy."

Numair had stripped poor Sam of his shirt and perched him on a high stool. His pale back was hunched over in the cold workroom. "Has the leeching stunted his growth, do you think?" Numair continued. Baird rolled his eyes.

"You have no bedside manner, Numair. Sometimes I think you have no manners at all." Baird replied. Numair grumbled that his manners were perfectly fine whilst Baird introduced himself to Sam as the Royal healer, and asked permission to examine him. His fingers were gentle as he took Sam's hand, his gift questing inside the young man to find any damage.

"Have you read him yet?" Cassia asked Numair, her curiosity about Sam's gift coming to the forefront.

"He's a stormwalker, and protection, I think, although I think I also got a hint of earth, but that's an unlikely combination with stormwalking."

That explained a lot- storm mages could summon wind, and lightning, both of which Sam had shown already. Numair didn't need to tell her that he was also a water mage: all those with stormwalking talents also had the power over water. With practise, he might even be able to control the winds enough to give him some power of flight. But stormwalking wasn't an easy talent to control. It was unpredictable, and notoriously difficult. "Whoever was leeching stopped about four or five weeks ago. His capacity isn't that small, for having had his magic taken away- I'd suggest he'll be quite powerful, if he reaches his full capacity. We need to visit the metalsmiths, and have some amulets to bind and hold his power made for him until he can control it," Numair said. Cassia nodded, watching the telltale slow of Baird's emerald fire leave Sam.

"Well," Baird said at length, "you're not going to grow anymore now, but I think you probably have been stunted- magical malnourishment may be the best term. Thank the great mother, someone placed barriers on your life force to stop your gift depleting too far."

"He's not that short!" Cassia protested. "If the standard barriers were put up, then why would anything change?"

Sam was bewildered by this whole new world, these people discussing him like he wasn't even here. At least the healer had given him his shirt back. he finished buttoning it as the others talked over him. "He's only, what, five foot five, or six?" Numair pointed out. "That's short! he's only three inches taller than you, Cassia."

"Precisely! I'm short, my- no, our, dad was short- we're just short! We're not all over six feet like you, Numair." She hated to think that her father had harmed his own child, her brother, just to keep his infidelity secret.

"Your father was taller than Sam, though," Baird pointed out gently. "And I'm not just basing this on height, but on the size of his internal organs, too. We've never seen anyone gifted deprived of their magic through childhood before. I never thought I would see anyone who had been."

"You're all talking about me like I have some terrible disease," Sam complained quietly. "I don't understand- I feel fine. My head hasn't hurt at all today and nothing weird has happened."

"You're just unusual," Baird soothed. "I think we're all a little worried about how your gift will affect you, since it's coming in quickly, not like a child, where the development is gradual. Your gift doesn't know your own limits, because it's never reached them, so it just keeps going, past what you can handle. Time and training will stop that."

Numair ran a hand through his long black hair, let free from it's usual horse tail. "We'll need to do some testing of your limits and abilities, set up a training program for you. How long are you staying?" he asked.

"I was planning on going back in two days," Cassia told him. "We can come again at the end of next week, and I had planned to come for Midwinter- whether Sam joins me is his choice. He's staying with me for now, so I can do some work with him, as long as I know what you think is best to do."

"Sam, you'll spend tomorrow with me. I'll order some amulets made today- if I call in favours with the jewellers, they'll be ready by Sunday," Numair instructed. Sam nodded, cowed back to silence by the bizarre situation.

"Take him away, Cass, and explain everything to him," Raoul instructed. "For the gods' sake, get him some reasonable clothes, and change yourself. I'll seek an audience with the king and let you know." He turned on his heel and left. Baird laid a hand on Sam's shoulder before he, too, departed. Numair shooed them away, after strict instructions that Sam was to return in the morning for lessons.

Cassia stopped the first page they came across, asking him to request that food from the kitchens be sent up to the rooms she kept at court. Her quarters were small- she might be unusual in her rank, holding her fiefs in her own right, and the power of her gift, and thus well known at court and amongst Tortallans in general, but Susannah Lake was a small northern fief, far from court and with only a trade in smelting and blacksmithing to mark it out. Cat's Peak, the fief which she had been gifted by the king on her sixteenth birthday was, in geography, only scrubby hill country, even if it laid claim to some of the finest tailors and weavers in the country, and a fair number of thread mages.

The door off an upper corridor lead into a small sitting room. News of her presence had obviously already spread; a fire was lit in the hearth, chasing away the chill of the wintry air, and a branch of candles stood on the table. A long bench, piled with cushions, a solid sideboard and two upholstered chairs dominated the space, a small table between the chairs. Other than this main room, there were two good sized bedchambers and a smaller servant's room- rarely used, since Cassia kept no maid, relying instead on the palace staff on the occasions she visited court.

She waved Sam to a seat. "Make yourself comfortable. You're more than welcome to the use of these rooms whenever you want them, although if you should choose to spend much time at court, I would imagine that you would be given your own quarters."

What did he mean," Sam asked, "about the King? About an audience?"

Cassia flopped onto the bench and sighed. "You're in something of an… unusual, even unique situation. You're certainly the first person we know of that was born of a Tortallan and unaware of it, and the thus also first noble in that situation. There's also the issue of inheritance laws."

"Inheritance laws?" he asked, puzzled. Why should he influence inheritance laws? A knock at the door stopped Cassia from answering immediately, and gave her time to think. How best to tell him, she wondered? She'd been thinking of what to say, and what his reaction might be, since she'd first realised the implications of the blood kinship late the night before.

Two servants entered, each bearing a tray of food and eating utensils. Cassia busied herself with them. "One of you, would you please send Kathryn, from the seamstresses, up to me as soon as possible?" she requested before they left, having refused their help in serving the food.

"Inheritance laws?" Sam reminded her when they had gone. She knelt at the hearth, hanging a kettle full of water over the fire.

"Yes," she said, dusting off her hands and settling back on her heels. She decided that brief was the best way to go. "You're male. You come before me in hierarchies of inheritance, but I've already inherited Susannah Lake. It's not a situation that's been seen before- usually, unknown sons don't come along after a daughter has already inherited. Right now, no one really knows how to treat you, or where either of us now stand in terms of land ownership."

He was astounded. The fact that he was a noble had barely infiltrated his consciousness- the gift had been a far more pressing concern. He knew that Cassia was a Duchess- they'd said that, back when she'd first told everyone at work that she was half Tortallan, and gifted. It hadn't really dawned on him that her status would mean he was some kind of rank. "But, I'm illegitimate. And you're older," he pointed out slowly.

"I'm illegitimate too," Cassia admitted. Sam looked shocked. She smiled. "My parents married after I was born. My mother was going through a lengthy divorce at the time. If it weren't for the gift, my parentage would have been too unsure to inherit. When I was a child, it wasn't even an issue- my uncle and his son didn't die until I was fourteen, so my father never thought he would inherit. As it was, he held the fief for just over four years until he died and I inherited.

"I… I didn't know," Sam stuttered. "But still, you're what, two years older than me?"

"Age doesn't matter in this case," Cassia explained. "The eldest male inherits, and if there is no male heir, the eldest female. But I've certainly never heard of a male heir coming along after a female has already inherited."

Sam ran his hands through his hair, finally resting his head in his palm. "I thought the magic was complicated enough," he said. "Now there's something to do with inheritances? And what does it have to do with the King anyway?""

Cassia put some cheese, bread and cured meat on a plate and put it next to him. "Eat," she said. "You haven't had any lunch."

"Stop avoiding the question."

She settled on the floor by the fire with her own food and sighed. "King Jonathan is a fair ruler, and a cautious one. Not even the most progressive of progressive nobles have dared suggest that females have the same rights as men in terms of inheritance. The default would be, I think, that you take Susannah Lake. But I'm willing to bet that the nobility in general will also not be happy with someone who has no real knowledge of Tortall taking on a Duchy, especially one so far north, away from the eye of the crown. Looking after the lands is of importance to the king, and the Northern Court is hosted at Susannah Lake. He must decide how best to proceed- ignore your claim, and leave me as duchess, or follow the law and, well, demote me, for lack of a better word."

"God."

They were interrupted again by a sharp rap at the door, but Kathryn didn't wait for an answer before entering. She was tall for a woman, her long auburn hair bundled up at the nape of her neck. she still wore her long linen apron covering her dark gown. "I've been hearing all kinds of rumours about your appearance, and the unknown man with you!" she declared.

"Kathryn, this is Samuel Burns, my previously-unknown half brother. Sam, Kathryn Threadstrong, head of the seamstresses at the palace."

"The rumours of an engagement are false then?" Kathryn asked sadly. She and Cassia had been friends all their lives; she wanted to see Cassia happily settled.

Cassia chuckled. "Most definitely." She gestured Kathryn to a seat. "But he is of the new world, and didn't know of his Tortallan ancestry until quite literally yesterday. Raoul is seeking an audience with the king, and Sam's hardly dressed for the occasion. Can you pull something suitable together as quickly as you can, please?"

She eyed Sam speculatively. "I'll do my best," she said. "Stand up," she demanded briskly, pulling a knotted cord and a scrap of paper from her pocket. She handed the paper and a pencil to Cassia, and rapidly snaked the cord around Sam, calling out numbers for Cassia to write down. "You could pass for a page, you're so small," she informed him. "I'll bring some things up for you soon." She turned to Cassia. "Lindsay's at court, by the way," she said, cryptically, at least to Sam.

With that, she was gone. "Who was that?" Sam asked, still shocked from the short, sudden visit. "I had assumed that maybe a Duchess would , I don't know, be spoken to with more respect?"

Cassia smiled as she poured the boiling water into a teapot. The room was finally starting to warm up. "Kathryn is head seamstress at the palace. She's a thread mage, a good one, very good. She's also from Cat's Peak, hence why she's so familiar with me. Technically, she's my subject. In reality, she's my friend. I have terrible fashion sense; so she makes sure that I'm presentable."

"Cat's Peak?" he asked. "That sounds familiar."

"My other fief," Cassia said. "I was given it by the king when I was sixteen- he hoped it might form a dowry. I've been something of a headache with my as yet single status."

"So the dowry idea didn't work?" he asked curiously. From what he knew of Tortall, it was very medieval in its customs, and he would have expected a noble woman to be married by now, if he thought about it. Was Cassia secretly married, he wondered? He'd never heard of her having a boyfriend, let alone a husband.

"Cat's Peak isn't the richest or most desired of fiefs," she explained. "It's in hill territory- very little viable farmland, nests of bandits and raiders around every corner, the Bazhir to the south. The only claim it has to desirability is that it produces excellent clothiers, and a few strong thread mages too. One of the Queen's tailors is from Cat's Peak. It's a sweetener to take an unruly wife, but so far the unruly duchess hasn't submitted to becoming a wife."

"Can't the King just insist that you marry? I thought Tortall was a dictatorship?"

"It is," Cassia replied, "Perhaps if I had a suitor that was considered particularly desirable for political reasons, the King would insist, but he knows that Raoul would be furious."

"Doesn't Raoul want you to marry?" he asked.

"He's reluctant to enforce a marriage," she explained shortly, finishing her tea. It hardly answered his question- he still wanted to know why. But she had clearly had enough of the topic for now. "I'm going to see Lindsay. Do you want to come, or stay here and rest?"

Sam felt stupid. he didn't know who anyone was. He still hadn't really figured out who Raoul was, other than the very large man from earlier who apparently didn't want Cassia married. He didn't much want to be made to feel more stupid by being thrust into yet more situations, but if he was alone, the situations may very well find him. At least when he was with Cassia, he knew someone. "Who's Lindsay?" he asked.

"He's the steward for Susannah Lake. He looks after day to day affairs for me." She held the door open and Sam reluctantly finished the last bite of his bread before following her.

They were heading into more populous sections of the palace. Sam was quickly bewildered by the sheer size, and felt distinctly out of place in the trousers and jumper he'd put on that morning. He eyed the tight hose of the men they passed with suspicion

"I went to school in the new world with Lindsay," Cassia explained as they walked. "He's half blooded, like us. His father fled Tortall to escape family scandals. Lindsay's of fief Eldorne, and his great aunt led an attempted rebellion against the crown. Most people won't give an Eldorne the time of day because of it, they say there's bad blood in the family. I don't hold with the idea of bad blood. Lindsay likes it in Tortall, and I needed a steward. Some nobles disagree with my choice though."

Sam nodded, dodging a pair of teenage boys in tunics who looked at him strangely. He could hear their furious whispers until Cassia rounded a corner and thumped on a door with the side of her fist.

"I wondered when I'd see you. Three pages and two servants informed me that you were here," Lindsay informed Cassia. One of the pages was even convinced you were married."

"I heard that rumour too," Cassia said. "Lindsay, a new Susannah Lake for you. This is Sam. Turns out I have a brother. He's gifted. My father slept around."

"I heard that one from the servants. Sometimes the gossip mill works," Lindsay said, one eyebrow cocked, but held out a hand for Sam to shake. "Pleased to meet you," he drawled. Sam could imagine this man as some kind of cowboy. His blonde hair tumbled into his eyes, and he looked tanned for someone who was supposed to live in the frozen northlands. He was wiry, slender, but his Tortallan clothing did little to hide the outlines of his muscles. He even wore tall tan leather boots.

Cassia had pushed past Lindsay, and was bent over the desk in the corner of the little room beyond. "You here to give reports?" she asked, shuffling through the papers.

"Gods, Cass, have you heard of manners? Privacy?" Lindsay asked. He plucked the papers out of her hands, and Sam followed them into the room. It was only really big enough for the narrow bed, desk and the chest in the corner. Clothing was piled over the top of the chest, haphazardly spilling from leather packs. The bed was hastily made, and the room had a faint hint of perfume. Unless Tortallan men favoured floral scents, Sam was going to guess that Lindsay had a lady friend who visited him.

He pulled his attention back to Cassia and Lindsay, who were bickering over papers. He watched, wide-eyed, as Lindsay pretended to hit Cassia over the head with a rolled up bundle, tapping her with no real force. Cassia laughed. She would never have allowed anyone to treat her that way at work, he mused. She was nice enough, but not one to joke around. "Linds, we've got to have an audience with the king about Sam. You should be there, it'll save my breath telling you about it, if nothing else. Raoul's gone to see what can be done, but I would guess that it'll be tomorrow."

Lindsay inclined his head. "What's your plan?" he asked quietly, suddenly serious.

Cassia flopped down onto the bed and shook her head. "I have no idea what the response will be." They both glanced at Sam, and he looked down at his feet. He had the sudden feeling that whatever they wanted to say, they didn't want him there.

The silence dragged on, but only Sam seemed to be finding it uncomfortable. Cassia and Lindsay, bizarrely, were staring straight at each other, then cassia shook her head. He suddenly remembered what Cassia had said. She could make people hear things that she wanted them to hear, and could read their thoughts. Were they talking to each other in their minds? He shifted from foot to foot.

" _I don't want to lose my fief_ ," Cassia sent into Lindsay's mind.

" _And I don't want to steward for a new worlder without a scrap of knowledge_." Lindsay replied. It had been a long time since he'd done this with Cassia, spoken mind to mind. But leaving his thoughts open to her came as easily as it had in long geography lessons, talking with the teacher none the wiser. "You should have left him where he was."

" _His gift was flaring. I certainly didn't know he was my brother when that happened_!" she retorted. " _But if the king grants him Susannah Lake, you have to steward. Please, Linds. My fief can't go to ruin. I owe my people that much_."

" _I can push him off a tower for you_?" Lindsay suggested, not quite completely joking.

" _Lindsay_!" Cassia admonished. " _He's my brother! And a developing mage. He'd probably kill you by flaring_."

"Ugh, if you insist," Lindsay replied aloud. He wondered what Sam had made of the silence. "Let me know when you need me. I was going to ride back in the morning, but I'll stay." He handed Cassia the rolled up papers he'd tapped her with earlier. "The season's accounts. You've got two new babies, and Giles died in his bed three weeks past."

"Thanks, Lindsay," Cassia said. "Is Giles' daughter okay?"

"She's doing some cleaning and washing at the castle. I'm looking out for her, don't worry," Lindsay assured her.

By the time Cassia and Sam had returned to her rooms, a scrawled note from Raoul was on the table.

-The king will see you both at half past eight tonight in the family solar. Dress properly, please, Cassia, and decide what best to put to him. If you need me, I'll be down at the tilting yard until dinner.

-Goldenlake.


	4. Audience

Kathryn arrived with her arms loaded down with clothes. She dumped the whole lot on Cassia’s bed.

“If I wear all those, I’ll be spherical,” Sam complained.

“They’re not all to be worn at once,” Kathryn assured him. “Now, what kind of image are we going for, here?” she asked.

“Fitting in. Not looking like an idiot,” Cassia drawled from her seat by her fireplace. She’d been more worried about her rank and titles since she’d spoken to Lindsay. She knew she had to do right by Sam. she’d discovered him, she couldn’t go back on what was already done. he needed training, she rationalised, and the only place for that was here. His gift was Susannah Lake, through and through, and that was easy enough for any mage to find out. She couldn’t hide his lineage.

Kathryn’s glare could have curdled milk. “Dare I ask, but what outcome do you want here?” she asked. “Because that affects quite a lot.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” Cassia said flatly. “It’s up to the king.”

Kathryn sighed. “Cassia, you’re a duchess of the realm. You aren’t just a plaything. You have control of your own destiny- if you were going to just roll over and do whatever the menfolk say, you’d be married off to some second son by now, sitting in your solar at Susannah Lake, tatting lace.”

“Well, there’s your answer,” Cassia said without looking up. “I don’t like rolling over for the menfolk, but in this case, the law of the land is more to the point. I’m sure the conservatives would love to take the fief from me. Probably give him Cat’s Peak whilst they’re at it. At least I have a life in the new world to support me, since I don’t much want to marry and have a tonne of babies.”

“I don’t want your bloody fief. You can keep it!” Sam snapped. “Bad enough that I have to do all this,” he indicated the pile of clothes on the bed , “and the sparkly stuff, and being poked about by some mage with no manners, without being the idiot who doesn’t know when to get the harvest in or whatever, in charge of some bloody peasants.”

Cassia looked like she might actually growl. “Those ‘bloody peasants’ are people, every one of them! And every one of them is my responsibility, even if I do live elsewhere!”

“I shall be fetching a bucket of cold water if you two don’t stop fighting immediately,” Kathryn commented, not even looking at them. She busied herself with the clothes, pulling out pieces. “Now, I don’t see why you need to pit yourselves against each other. Apparently you both want the same thing- that Cassia keeps her fiefs, and life continues as normal for each of you.”

“Well, yes, that would be the ideal,” Cassia spat, “but right now, I don’t see it happening. The more I think about it, the more I realise that this would be a supremely easy way for the king to placate the conservatives for a while. I know of a few lords, some of them northern, that aren’t best pleased that there’s a woman heading up Susannah Lake. Tirrsmont comes to mind- he’d love to have the Northern court, but he’s too close to the border. He can’t stand that a woman hosts the legislative power in the north.”

“Sam, you don’t want the fief?” Kathryn asked. “You won’t try to take it from Cassia?”

“I couldn’t bloody care less.”

Kathryn smiled. Cassia narrowed her eyes. “You’re missing the obvious,” Kathryn said. “Say you don’t want the fief. Too much responsibility, too much honour for a new worlder, and so on.”

Cassia jumped up and started pacing. “Abdicate,” she mused. “I hadn’t considered that. Give the fief to me...” Suddenly, a radiant smile, and Sam felt like a weight had been lifted. She wasn’t angry anymore, and he could stop worrying about what other responsibilities he would suddenly gain.

“Well, then, I think that perhaps we should dress you both in Susannah Lake colours,” Kathryn said. “It will give the impression of solidarity, and of doing the best for the fief.” She disappeared into a cupboard and reappeared with a turquoise gown.

Cassia wrinkled her nose. “I have to wear a corset with that dress. We’re meeting the king in his solar, not at court. Surely I don’t need a corset?”

“If you look like a proper Tortallan lady, he’s more likely to agree that you are the safer choice.”

“Ugh,” was Cassia’s only response.

 

***

 

Sam was less than impressed by Kathryn and Cassia lacing him into his new clothes. He shouldn’t have been shocked to discover that elastic wasn’t exactly common in Tortall, he supposed, but it still surprised him to discover what he had presumed to be something like leggings were actually tight trousers which had to be laced up at the top to keep them up. At least the long turquoise tunic hid the lacings on the dark grey hose, even if the silvery puffed sleeves of the shirt beneath the tunic struck him as rather effeminate. He found himself longing for something like the plainer, darker clothes that Lindsay had worn, or the plain black of Baird.

He thought it was probably all worth it though, just to see the look on Cassia’s face when Kathryn bullied her into the corset. Her jewel-toned skirts rustled as Kathryn pulled hard on the lacings, Cassia grimacing and almost stumbling. He was finding it hard to reconcile sensible work clothes Cassia with this newly small-waisted, silk bedecked creature, her hair braided up intricately, smoothed into jewelled combs.

“Well, I feel stupid, but at least I’m probably mildly more comfortable than you,” he joked.

“Those clothes fit you perfectly well,” Kathryn said as she pinned up the last of Cassia’s hair. “I made them, I should know.” She gave Cassia a shove, and looked at them critically. “Done,” she proclaimed. “You’ll be perfect now. And with time to spare”

“Not quite,” Cassia said. “I need you as a demonstration aid, Kathryn. Bowing is hard in these clothes. Sam needs to learn his bows to royalty.”

Half an hour later, Sam decided he didn’t really want to meet royalty. There was a significant risk he’d just fall over.

 

***

 

“Her Grace, Cassia of Susannah Lake and Cats Peak,” the squire stationed outside the door announced to the king. “His Grace, Baird of Queenscove. Lord Commander Raoul of Goldenlake and Malorie’s Peak. Lindsay of Eldorne. Samuel Burns, Son of James of Susannah Lake.” The young man bowed low, and retreated from the room, and the four men bowed as one, Sam taking his cue from Lindsay regarding the depth of the obeisance, as he’d been told. Cassia sunk into a curtsey.

“Well, this is an interesting situation,” King Jonathan mused. He stood, and Sam tried not to stare at the man. “Make yourselves comfortable.” He moved over to a side table and lifted a flagon of wine. “A drink, anyone?”

King Jonathan, Sam discovered, did not seem anywhere near as fearsome as he’d been painted. He’d been expecting a tyrant, but instead found an affable man, his striking blue eyes far more memorable than his manner. His solar, which Sam discovered was a sitting room-cum-office, was also not what he would have expected. There were no jewelled thrones, no finery or trappings. The furniture was good quality, heavy, masculine. The draperies were muted, more for warmth than decoration. Even the king’s clothing wasn’t as fine as he and Cassia wore. Dark hose and tunic, his only nod to colour was a sapphire trim on the hem of the tunic.

“So,” the king said, leaning forward in his chair, “Raoul has given me the outline of this tale, but I’d like to hear your take, Lady Cassia. He’s your brother?”

Cassia nodded in acceptance. “I realised just yesterday that Sam is a mage,” she began. “I aimed only to diminish the effects of the flares, before he caused damage, but he was unaware of any Tortallan ancestry. I visited his mother, to determine if his parents had Tortallan blood, but instead discovered that Sam is the product of an affair between his mother,a new worlder, and my father.”

“And you’re sure of his parentage?” the king asked.

“His mother knew the name of my father, and had a likeness of him as a keepsake. Sam’s gift alone is proof; it is as pure as my own.”

“James of Susannah Lake always did like the women. How old are you, Sam?” the king asked, kindly.

“Erm, twenty four, your majesty,” he supplied nervously.

The king leaned back and twirled the stem of his goblet between his fingers. “A Duke for Susannah Lake, then,” he mused. “I had despaired of such a thing these past eight years.”

“Jonathan,” Raoul said quietly, “should that be such a foregone conclusion? Cassia has done very well with Susannah Lake, even living away. I’m not sure a change is necessary.”

The king blinked, and raised his eyebrows. “Titles and property pass through the male line,” he stated. “That is the law.”

“But you are the king,” Cassia pleaded. “Your majesty, have I not served you well as Lady of Susannah Lake? You gave me Cat’s Peak ten years ago, and you said then that you knew I would make an excellent Lady. Have I not proved that much?”

“You have been excellent, my dear,” he assured her. “And you will still be lady of Cat’s Peak, as you will be until you give it to your husband. But the law is clear. A male heir inherits. It is only owing to the distinct scarcity of close blood relatives to yourself that you inherited Susannah Lake.” He smiled warmly. “If you had produced an heir, it might be different. You would have a husband to manage your lands, and an assured lineage.”

Cassia had to bite her lip hard. At least sexism in the new world wasn’t quite so blatantly obvious! She’d broken one betrothal and refused four more. She knew she was running out of options on this matter. Perversely, she wondered if it would be better to give her lands over, including Cat’s Peak, and go and make her life entirely in the new world. No more fretting about the harvest or the avalanches. No more worrying about which nobleman would be next in line to try for a wife.

“Excuse me?” Sam said. The King looked over. “What if I don’t want to be a duke?” he asked.

Jonathan’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“Jonathan,” Raoul interjected, “let Cassia keep her fief. The boy has enough to deal with. He’s learning to be a mage, he doesn’t need to learn to be a liege lord at the same time.”

“A title. Lands.” Jonathan spat the words. “Who wouldn’t take them?”

Before Cassia or Raoul could respond to that, Lindsay stood. He bowed. “Your Majesty, I will not steward for him. You won’t find another to do it either. No one will want to look after a noble as green as grass. He’s from the new world. Today is the first time he has been to this world, let alone this country. He has no concept of our laws and customs. He doesn’t know the people of Susannah Lake. I steward for Lady Cassia only.”

“You expect me to care who stewards Susannah Lake, Eldorne? Perhaps it’s time the fief had a resident Lord. I should give it to the rightful heir. He can stay in the north and learn his trade.”

“Sam is half blooded. He has citizenship in Britain. You can’t force him to reside in Tortall. It’s written into the agreement that allows movement between worlds,” Cassia pointed out quietly. “If there is no steward, and the Lord is absent, the fief will fall into ruin, and you won’t be able to give it away. People will die when bandits move in.”

Jonathan huffed out a breath. “Leave me,” he instructed. “I'll give you my decision tomorrow.” He watched them leave. “Raoul, stay,” he instructed. “I need to discuss this with you.”

 

***

 

“How did he get scary so fast?” Sam wanted to know. “He was so nice to start with.”

“He’s a king. Royalty is weird,” Cassia commented, yanking pins from her hair. “Help me out of this damned corset, would you?” she turned her back to him, and he fumbled with the knots in the ribbons. Finally, it was loose enough for her to yank off. She threw it onto the bench and sank into her chair in her skirts and chemise. “I don’t know if it’s all royalty, or just the Contés. I don’t know why he doesn’t try to change the rights of women here; his wife is very progressive. Somehow, it doesn’t seem to matter to him.” She stared moodily into the fireplace.

“So, what is the relationship between you and Raoul and Baird?” Sam asked. “Why were they there?”

“They’re my guardians,” she said. “My father appointed them before he died. They have the power to do anything a father would normally do, like arrange a marriage.”

“I’m not sure I like it here,” he murmured. “I don’t want any of this. I just want to be Sam Burns, like I always was. No magic. No crazy nobility stuff.”

“I can sympathise,” Cassia said. “But we are what we are. I’ve always been Cassia of Susannah Lake, long before I was a duchess.”

They lapsed into silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts. Neither expected the knock at the door; Sam jumped.

Raoul made almost any room he was in seem smaller; the same was true of this one. He folded himself up into a chair. “I think Thayet will talk some sense into him,” he informed them. “That didn’t go as well as I had hoped, I must admit.” He sighed. “Samuel, it’s not that I think you wouldn’t make a good Lord. It’s simply that I know Cassia does, and she’s my ward. I must act in her best interests.”

“I know,” Sam replied. “I don’t want to be some kind of lord to a place I’ve never been, inherited from I man I don’t remember meeting.”

“You’re a sensible lad,” Raoul said. “I look forward to getting to know you more.” he stood, and stretched. “Cassia, must you lounge around with no clothes on?” he asked, suddenly noticing her lack of corset. “How you ever intend to pass for a marriageable woman, I have no idea.”

“Maybe I don’t,” she riposted. “And I’m hardly likely to marry either you or my own brother, so I don’t see the relevance of me wearing a corset in my rooms. I’m not naked, just corset-less.”

Raoul sighed again. “Cassia… you know that you must marry. If you agree to marry, have an heir, this would be so much easier.”

“I’m not ready to marry.”

He bent and kissed the top of her head. “You need to let Francis go, dearest,” he murmured.

“This isn’t about Francis,” she pouted.

He left, shutting the door behind him softly. “This isn’t all about Francis,” she repeated, in a whisper.

Sam had no idea who Francis was.


	5. Lessons and learning

It was still dark when Cassia dragged the covers off Sam’s bed. He swiftly curled around himself and glared at her. It was cold. The fire that had been banked up last night was nothing more than a few embers she was stirring into life. “There’s hot water on your washstand,” she said, “And clothes for you on the chair. Breakfast’s waiting for you.”

He groaned, stretching out again. It took a few minutes to formulate his thoughts into accepting his surroundings: the big bed piled with blankets (now in an unceremonious heap on the floor thanks to Cassia,) the stone walls partially hidden by woollen draperies. He stumbled off into the tiny room to the side, containing a sort of toilet Cassia had called a privy, and now a large bowl of steaming water and a towel. Cassia had briefly tried to explain the concept of the plumbing working by magic, but he’d been too tired to really take it in. Right now, he just wanted a shower, but one apparently wasn’t forthcoming.

Partially washed, and dressed in much plainer hose and tunic than the night before (He’d managed to wrestle the ties by himself this morning), he presented himself in the main room. He found bread and fruit and a dish of porridge waiting for him there, but no Cassia.  He settled himself on the bench and started to nibble, hoping she’d come back.

He was just beginning to wonder what he should do, if he should try to find her, when she arrived. “Morning,” she said. “You’ve eaten? Good. You’ll need your strength. You’re going to Numair until this afternoon, and then we’ll think about going home.”

“Who’s Francis?” he asked, suddenly.

The blood seemed to drain from Cassia’s face. she tilted her head and looked at him. “Why do you ask?” She worried at her lip between her teeth.

“Raoul said last night, that you had to let Francis go,” he said. “I wondered who Francis is.”

She smiled, just a little. She still looked worried, he thought, or maybe sad. “Just an old friend,” she said. “Now, come on, you need to get going.”

Sam was sure she wasn’t telling the whole story, or even part of it. He’d never seen her so discomforted before. She’d taken hearing that she had an unknown brother far more in her stride. She’d been collected then, able to make decisions and see them through. This time, she couldn’t even give a believable answer. Instead, she hurried him out of her quarters and down the stairs and along the corridors to Numair’s workroom.

Numair was not a morning person. He looked about as delighted to see them as Sam was to be there.  “Meditation,” was all he said by way of greeting. “Sit.”

Sam just looked confused. “It’s useful,” Cassia assured him. “Enjoy. I’ll come and see you at lunchtime.”

 

***

 

Cassia had considered staying for Numair’s lessons. She knew that if Sam was going to return home with her, she’d need to do some training with him. But the thought of spending hours going over basic control exercises was enough to drive her mad. She was a battle mage; he control was excellent. It had to be. Battle magic was suited to grand shows of magic, and she could open chasms in the ground or hurl boulders or other large objects. Numair had worked with her as a child, teaching her the control necessary. She knew his methods, and knew she could help Sam if he needed it.

Equally, though, settling down to do something productive, like checking over the Susannah Lake accounts made her want to scream. Who knew if she’d even have her fief by nightfall? Whilst she was waiting for the King’s decision on the matter, there would be no quiet time, be that meditating or work. Instead, she headed for the indoor archery courts. She knew that someone would find her if she was needed.

The feeling of the snug leather wristguards was comforting, and the bow felt smooth and sure under her fingers. She hadn’t shot in some time, but after a few wobbly arrows, it started to come back. Her teachers had insisted that if she was to understand her battle magic, she had to have some understanding of the fighting arts. She’d been taught archery, some knife fighting, and she could at at least swing a sword, along with the typical self defense often taught to noblewomen of her generation to fend off attackers. She would never be a warrior; she would certainly never survive knight’s training, but she could manage. Her father had always been wholeheartedly against her learning any such arts: he was convinced no man would want to marry a woman who could fight.

An hour later, she’d exhausted some of her nervous energy. The arrows had marched steadily towards the centre of the target as she’d moved further away. Her arms ached pleasantly form the repetition of the draw and release of the bowstring. She idly wondered if she should find an archery club in the new world to join. Archery like this was almost a form of meditation, she mused, with the repetitive motions.

“Good shooting,” a low voice commented from behind her. She jumped and dropped the bowstring she was coiling. She cursed under her breath and stooped to pick it up.

“Hello, Alaisdair.”

“You don’t sound pleased to see me,” Alaisdair of Teresian said. “Aren’t you pleased to see an old friend?”

“Not you,” she said, carefully wrapping the bowstring and replacing the bow on the racks.

He was behind her then, and she could feel his breath hot on her ear. “Still using the lightest bows, Cassia?” he murmured. “At least you’re still feminine, not all muscled like the fighting women.”

“Leave me alone, Alaisdair,” she spat, spinning to face him and stepping away.

“When I have you all alone, little Cassia? Or should that be little Lucinda?”

“Never call me that,” she hissed. When he reached out a hand towards her face- to stroke her cheek or tug her hair she couldn’t tell- he found his hands bound in manacles of turquoise fire. He yanked them, ineffectually, and swore.

“Little bitch. You never knew what was good for you.”

She smiled sweetly, now that she had reminded him that he was dealing with an angry mage, and not a smitten court lady. “I know very well what’s not good for me,” she informed him, her tone all sweetness and light, “and I know that you aren't good for anyone. I suggest that you leave me alone, before I make it known that you’ve been bothering me.”

“I hear you’ve a new betrothed,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “I’m sure he would hate to hear what a little slut you really are.”

“You hear wrong,” she informed him. “I’m not betrothed. And I’m no slut. Get out”

He smirked, his hands still imprisoned in the fire of her gift. “I think I shall petition the king for your hand, then,” he said. “After all, who else will have damaged goods?”

The turquoise streak that knocked the young man off his feet didn’t come from Cassia. Sam’s icy grey eyes reflected the colour of his gift as the wind tore at Alaisdair’s clothes and hair.

“What on earth is going on?” Numair wanted to know. “What on earth has you so furious that it has Sam dragging me down here, following you?” He sighed. “I’m too old for this. Sam, let him go.”

Sam did as he was instructed. Numair was actually quite proud of the speed and accuracy with which his new charge had acted, and that managed to end the spell quickly. “I’ll have you for this!” Alaisdair growled. “You attacked me with no provocation!”

“If you hadn’t insulted my sister, you’d have given me no reason,” Sam growled.

Numair felt like he was in charge of two unruly, gifted children. “Cassia, your spell too, please. Let him go.”

She did, and stalked out of the practice court, Sam just behind her. Numair glared at Alaisdair. “Your betrothal to her was broken years ago, Teresian. Leave her alone.” With that, he followed his charges.

 

***

 

Cassia slouched against the workbench in Numair’s room as he once again tried to get Sam to put lightning in a globe. Like most mages, Sam could manage to call up his gift quite fine when he was angry, but it was more of a challenge when he had to try. Numair had roundly told him off for daring to try to use magic against Alaisdair, pointing out that if it had been lightning instead of wind, he would have killed the other man. Sam’s only response was that he should have insulted Cassia, to which Numair had to reluctantly agree.

Cassia was privately chuffed that Sam had called her his sister. She’d always presumed that she was an only child, and though she now wondered if her father had any other unknown progeny, she was pleased that he was willing to claim her as family.

Just before lunch, a messenger arrived with a summons to see the king- for Cassia alone. She sighed as she looked up Balor’s Needle. Did he have to be somewhere with quite so many steps? But when your monarch demanded your presence, you couldn’t refuse, even if he did enjoy parking himself at the top of the tallest tower in the palace.

She rather wished she had Sam’s power with winds, so she could have used the breezes to lift herself. She began to climb.

The king was engrossed in his scrying mirror when she arrived at the top, but the sound of the door alerted him. “Thank you for joining me, Lady Cassia,” he said with a warm smile.

“Your majesty,” she replied, warily.

“Cassia, forgive me my words yesterday. I hadn’t had time to think. I jumped to what seemed the obvious conclusion.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he held up a hand to stop her. “No, let me finish. You are quite right, all of you. I have never before removed a fief’s Lord without some wrongdoing on their part. You are the Duchess of Susannah Lake, and to remove you would give the impression that you had misbehaved in some way.” She couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her face. He wasn’t finished yet. “I do think however, that it is time you had an heir.”

Cassia’s heart sank. Had Alaisdair already petitioned the king for her hand? Surely Raoul wouldn’t allow the marriage. Even Baird would challenge it if she told him what Alaisdair had done. “I ask that you name Samuel your heir.”

That took a few moments to sink in. He wasn’t insisting she marry? He wasn’t trying to match her up with Alaisdair? He wasn’t even mentioning marriage? “Yes, your Majesty,” she breathed. “Thank you!”

“I expect him to have all the respect due as your heir, Cassia,” the king warned. “And I do expect him to attend court. He is one of my subjects, and he should know his Tortallan heritage.”

It was a lighter hearted Cassia who descended the steps and crossed the palace grounds to share the news.

Her good mood lasted until she got home with Sam that evening. The fates decreed that it wouldn't be a quiet evening, however.

  



	6. Wandbearers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter lays out how I see the two kinds of magic, and how they interact. I hope it's understandable; it's something I spent a long time thinking about, but struggled to work into the story. I'd be interested to know what anyone else thinks of it, particularly the idea of the gift having talents. It may be more canon than I had thought- a recent re-reading of the beginning of 'Alanna: the first adventure' fits very well with the concept.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“Despite the rumours, I am not currently in the business of taking in waifs and strays!” Cassia snapped upon seeing the two men sitting on her doorstep, one dark, one blond.

“Cassia? You don’t recognise me,” the dark one said, standing and revealing himself to be very tall, at least compared to Cassia and Sam.

 _‘They feel strange… like you, but not like you,_ ’ Sam whispered, mind to mind. Cassia had taught him how to put forward the thoughts he wanted her to hear on the train journey down, building on the rudimentary magical barriers Numair had helped him construct. Cassia couldn’t help a small frown though- he shouldn’t be able to feel their magic. Maybe he was getting echoes of Numair’s talent for sensing, she mused.

 _‘They’re wandbearers. A different kind of magic that has escaped notice,_ ’ she sent back. Aloud, she said “I don’t. Who are you?”

“I was a friend of your mother’s,” he continued. “Severus Snape. This is Draco. He’s your cousin on your mother’s side. May we come in?”

Cassia huffed and unlocked the door. “I suppose you had better. Why must I keep acquiring new family members?” Sam’s face fell. _‘I didn’t mean it like that, Sam_ ,’ she sent silently, seeing his crestfallen expression.

“So,” Cassia asked, when they were all clustered in her little living room, “to what do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” She curled herself into her favourite armchair.

“It’s a long story. Is there a chance of a hot drink? Draco is unwell, and the cold isn’t good for him,” Severus informed them.

“I’ll get some tea,” Sam murmured, leaving Cassia with the newcomers. She rubbed her head absently with one hand- the weekend had been trying, and it didn’t look like she would have a quiet sunday evening.

“How much do you know about what’s been going on in the magical world?” Severus asked.

Cassia was tempted to answer that she was perfectly well aware of Tortallan life, thank you very much, but resisted. She knew it wasn’t what he meant. “Not much, I think, since I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Severus sighed in frustration. “Have you heard of Voldemort?”

“No…” Cassia replied. “No, wait! I have, I think. My mother may have mentioned him when I was small. Evil wizard, died some time ago?”

“That’s him,” Severus agreed. “But it turns out he wasn’t dead.” He proceeded to explain the events of the last few years- Voldemort’s return, Harry Potter’s constant battles. “He was finally defeated this summer just gone,” he finished. “Draco’s father, though, was involved in the Dark Lord’s inner circle, and was imprisoned for life. He killed himself. Draco’s mother did the same. All their assets were stripped, and Draco’s been left with nothing, No one will give him any help- the Malfoy name assures that. And now there’s something wrong with him, and no one will help in figuring out what.”

“Why come to me?” she asked.

“Because you won’t be shunned for offering him help, and you might know what’s wrong. You have magic yourself, don’t you? Just different than ours?”

“I’m gifted, yes,” Cassia confirmed, “but I’m not a healer. If he’s not well, perhaps he could see a doctor?”

“A muggle doctor can’t help me. There’s something wrong with my magic,” Draco said, speaking for the first time, other than to quietly thank Sam for the tea. “Severus can’t figure it out, nor could the only healer who would agree to see me. But my spells won’t work, not for the last month, and I just feel exhausted all the time. I had pain in my stomach, but no one knew the cause.”

“That’s all very well, but I still have no idea about wandbearer magic. Someone tried me with a wand; I blew it up in spectacular fashion.” Cassia’s patience was wearing thin. She was tired and hungry, and decidedly not in the mood to consider the finer points of the gift in relation to wandbearer magic. “I can’t help you.”

Draco surprised her by suddenly bursting into tears, his thin body wracking with abject sobs. The seemingly austere Severus surprised her even more by taking the younger man into a fatherly embrace. “He has nowhere! Nowhere to go, and no one to help him! He’s hardly more than a child!” Severus snapped.

“He’s what, eighteen, nineteen? And he must have been living somewhere until now,” Cassia pointed out.

“Yes, with me,” Severus said. “But I am a teacher, and the board of governors of the school have given me until tomorrow at midnight to have him out.”

“Ugh, fine.” Cassia sighed. She already had one other person living in her house, what was another one? Hopefully she could figure out what was wrong with help from Numair and Baird, and send him on his way. “He can stay.” Inside, she felt like she was running a shelter for homeless puppies.

  


***

 

Later that evening, after Draco was settled in the little third bedroom and Cassia had decided that cooking was out of the question and ordered pizza (a food which Deraco found wholly amusing), Sam knocked at Cassia’s bedroom door, quietly. When he pushed it open, though, there was no one in the bed. Padding downstairs, he found her in the dining room, surrounded by paper, lit only by three large pillar candles.

“You know there’s electricity here?” he asked quietly. “What are you doing, anyway?”

She looked up and smiled, gesturing him towards a seat. “Yes, I just like candlelight. And I’m looking over the accounts for Susannah Lake. Can’t you sleep?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking- Draco said he lost his magic a month ago. That’s when my gift reappeared. Is there a connection?”

Cassia sighed and put down her pen. “Do you want a drink?” she asked eventually. “this could take a while.”

Ten minutes later, each with a mug of hot chocolate, they curled up together under Cassia’s duvet, both agreeing they were cold.

“As far as I know,” Cassia began, “there are two types of magic. Since the witches and wizards have hidden their magic completely from view, it’s entirely possible that there is more than what we know. Those two types of magic, though, are completely separate.

“The gift is innate magic.” she explained. “Each gifted person has within them a finite amount of power that can be used- although it does regenerate, it’s more than possible to exhaust your supply of magic. I suppose it’s easiest thought of as something like mana in a computer game- when it’s gone, you need to rest to allow it to build up again. We influence the world around us by using what is in essence, an extension of our own life force.

“Witches and wizards, what I call wandbearers, though, don’t have innate power. they have the ability to influence the power that exists in the world already. In the vast majority of cases, they require something to focus their intention- they use wands and magic words, rather than the visualisation and force of desire that we use. not many of them are capable of manipulating this power without their focus, and even fewer are able to mould it to their will- to create new spells.

“As you know, the gift is hereditary. It doesn’t just appear. Officially, wandbearer magic is usually hereditary, but can manifest spontaneously in previously non-magical lines- they call non magical people muggles, and those that have magic from non-magical parents are known as muggleborns. I’m interesting in that I was born of two magical lines. My mother was what is called a squib- the non magical child of a magical line. She was disowned because of her lack of magic. Her family is... Was, very conservative, very concerned with the purity of their magic and blood. She would have been Draco’s aunt, if she’d been acknowldeged by the family. Now, officially magic can appear in a muggle line, but there are some that believe that muggleborn witches and wizards are, in fact, descended from long lines of squibs, and traced far enough back, they would have magical ancestry.”

She regarded Sam, sipping at her hot chocolate. “Do you see that they are completely different, born of different sources? They couldn’t overlap. Even if they could, your gift was leeched when you were about three- Draco wasn’t even born at that point. He’s only just turned nineteen, so that’s five years difference between you.”

“I suppose so,” he agreed, “but what would happen if someone had both kinds of magic though?”

“I can assure you that Draco is from one of the purest families around- they trace their wandbearer lineage for centuries, and he’s the spitting image of his father, I believe. There’s no chance that he’s gifted too.”

“No,” Sam continued, “Draco aside, what would happen?”

“Well, to the best of my knowledge, I am the only one who could have magic mixed that way. Other Tortallans may have bred with other squibs, though, and I wouldn’t know. And in my case, it’s exactly as I said earlier- the wand I was given to try exploded. Upon consultation with a couple of mages and a wizard, we came to the conclusion that I was trying to use magic in the way I’d use the gift, and the wand couldn’t handle the influx of innate power from me. it’s meant to take intention and direct it, not direct actual power. For what it’s worth, I’m undeterred by the wards they put up to keep muggles away, unlike people who are just gifted. The suspicion is that I inherited both the gift and the ability to wandbear, but the gift overrides everything. Had I a full sibling who didn’t have the gift, it’s entirely plausible that they would be able to wandbear.”

“You seem to be unusual in a lot of ways,” Sam commented.

“Unfortunately, yes. But at least I’ve always known about it. It’ nothing special for me and I can ignore my wandbearing side entirely- until a couple of wizards show up on my doorstep, that is.”

Sam nodded, yawned and snuggled down into the duvet. “Tell me about Susannah Lake?” he asked.

“It’s a northern fief,” Cassia began with a smile, “so it’s cold and snowy in the winter, from about september through to April or May. it’s settled in a valley in the Grimhold mountains, containing, not surprisingly, a lake. The village is tightly packed to the castle walls so the villagers can make it into the castle in case of attack from Scanra. Some of the finest steelwork outside of the palace craftsmen comes from Susannah Lake- the joke from further south is that the fires keep everyone from freezing in winter.” She looked over at Sam, who was now fast asleep, more exhausted by the weekend than her. Smiling, she tucked the covers around him and turned off the light before giving in to sleep herself.

 

***

 

“Can I walk with you?” Draco asked as Cassia wound her scarf around her neck. She’d woken Sam to call in sick to work, and then left him to doze. “I’d like to know where you are, at least.”

“umm, sure,” she agreed, “but if you need me, it would be better to just phone…”

He looked blank, and she smiled. “Ah. Magic. No phones. I had forgotten that electronics don’t work well around large groups of wandbearers.” She picked up a spare key from the drawer in the hall table and handed it to him. “Come on, it’s only ten minutes’ walk. It’s easy enough, you should be able to find your way back.

 

***

 

Ron proudly carried a plate piled with bacon, eggs and beans through from the kitchen. He was learning to cook after years of his mother’s cooking and plentiful Hogwarts food. It was only three weeks since he and Harry (well, just Harry’s money) had bought the little house, choosing to eschew a wizarding village, much to his mother’s hand-wringing and his father’s delight. The old house had a fireplace, and so could be connected to the floo, lessening some of Molly Weasly’s maternal fretting., and they both still had Sunday dinner and at least one evening a week at the burrow.

Ron seated himself at the table by the front window and sighed with contentment, picking up his knife and fork. Life was good. He and Harry had finally realised that after so many years of friendship, they understood each other like no one else ever could, and that simply friendship wasn’t enough anymore. Both had been too scared of rejection, of the loss of the friendship of the object of their affection to confess, until one drunken night with a  bit too much firewhisky. He glanced out of the window, cheerfully consuming a forkful of beans, and froze.

From the house across the road, the girl they had met briefly just after moving in was on her way to work. But beside her was none other than Draco Malfoy.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed. “Harry! Harry, come and look!”

“What?” asked Harry, sticking his head out from the kitchen.

“Malfoy! Bloody Malfoy is living opposite us!”

“Don’t be daft, Ron. There’s no way that Malfoy…” Harry trailed off as he peered down the road after Ron’s pointing finger. The platinum blonde head certainly looked like it belonged to Malfoy… He’d seen the girl a few times since they moved in, waved to her and had a very brief conversation. Cathy, Cassie… something like that. She was a librarian, he remembered. “It can’t be Malfoy,” he decided. “Could be anyone who just looks like Malfoy. Why would he be living with a muggle?” He set his plate down decisively and began to eat.


	7. Sharing the news

It felt like a kind of deja-vu, for Cassia to once again be heading to Connie’s office to tell her about a Tortallan ancestry. This time, though, there was no sleepy looking Sam at his desk just outside her door, and Connie was alone.

“Sam’s not in today,” Cassia stated when she went in.

Connie looked up, distracted. “No, he’s not… he’s off ill,” she said. “Why, did you need him?”

“Not exactly,” Cassia said. “It was more a statement of fact than a question on his whereabouts. In fact, I know very well where he is. He’s asleep in my spare bedroom.”

Connie put down her pen very carefully and tilted her head to the side. “Why is he in your spare bedroom?” she finally asked.

Cassia smiled. She was actually quite enjoying this. “It turns out he’s my brother,” she announced.

Connie blinked in silence for a few seconds. “I don’t understand.”

“I noticed on Thursday that his gift was out of control. When I told him to rein it in, it turned out he had no idea he even had magic. A visit to his mother revealed that he’s actually the result of an affair between her and my father. We’ve been in Tortall all weekend, sorting out his magic, among other things.”

Cassia watched the cogs turn in Connie’s head as she processed this. “So, he’s not ill, then?” she finally asked.

“Not physically, no…” Cassia hedged. “but he hasn’t got much control over his gift at the moment, and he’s obviously pretty confused by everything. He termed it as his magic being ill.”

Seconds ticked by as Connie fiddled with her pen and considered this. “Is he dangerous?” she asked.

Cassia shook her head. “Not now. He would have been, left to his own devices. For complicated reasons that have nothing to do with Sam, his gift didn’t manifest until very late, a few months ago, and it took until now to build to dangerous levels. But he has ways of controlling it now until he learns his own limits.”

Connie smiled wryly. “Well, I suppose it makes life more interesting,” she said. “I had been under the impression that there weren’t many Tortallans who’d come here.”

“We tend to congregate,” Cassia explained. “Like any minority, I suppose. There were eight of us at my school, but we’re pretty much the entirety of my generation of new world Tortallans. In fact, Sam’s the only one I knew of within three years of my age who wasn’t at school with me.”

“Does he want everyone to know?” Connie asked. “About the magic, and you being his sister?”

Sam had decided that it would be easier if people knew, but he was also scared of telling anyone. “Yes, he does,” Cassia said. “Could you spread the word around? Hopefully we can get questions out of the way before he comes back.”

 

***

 

Draco didn’t have his old saunter anymore. He didn’t feel like the king of the roost anymore. He mulled over the changes to his situation over the last year as he wandered back to Cassia’s.

Last Christmas, he’d been scared, it was true. He’d been scared of failing, failing the Dark Lord, and failing the expectations of his family. But he’d been a Malfoy- the oldest, bluest blood in the wizarding world. He’d had a reason to hold his head high. The battle of Hogwarts had changed all that. Voldemort defeated, the Malfoy name in irredeemable tatters. His parents dead, the Malfoy wealth confiscated.

And now this. His magic, apparently gone. his wand was no more than a useless stick, worn to fit his hand perfectly. And that gnawing, emptiness inside, like a hunger that wouldn’t go away. The splitting headaches, the sharp aches in his gut. He wasn’t a Malfoy, wasn’t a wizard. He was just a shadow.

Draco sighed as he mounted the front steps of Cassia’s terraced house. He was even reduced to living with strangers, reliant on others for his very livelihood. Living with the product of his own squib relatives.

He didn’t notice the redhead peeing out from behind the lacy curtains on the other side of the road. Draco had just turned the key in the door when Ron’s voice rang out across the street. “Oi!” he shouted. Draco jumped and turned, one had scrabbling for his wand. He remembered belatedly that it was useless now.

“Weasley!” he spluttered in surprise.

“So it is you, Malfoy,” Ron spat. “You should be in Azkaban, not living amongst decent folk!” Ron’s hand was clenched hard in his pocket, Draco noticed, no doubt around his wand. “I thought you were in hiding somewhere!”

Draco sighed. “Weasley, please, leave me alone. I just want to be left alone.”

Ron wasn’t to be deterred. “You don’t deserve a peaceful life, Malfoy,” he growled. “Does the muggle you’re with know who you are? Or are you grooming her up to be a death eater sacrifice?” Ron drew his wand, debating which painful spell would be best used on Malfoy. His auror training had been teaching him some rather interesting ones, of late.

Sam had rather liked his cyclone used on Alaisdair, so he decided it was time it had another outing. Ron’s raised voice had brought him to Cassia’s bedroom window. He peered down and judged the distance between Ron and Draco, carefully making sure there was enough space to make sure Draco didn’t get caught in the backdraft. Numair’s lectures had taught him something, and Sam had no intention of hurting the fragile young man.

The look of surprise as Ron landed on his backside in the middle of a whip of wind was priceless. Sam had to smile, but the circumstance hardly cheered up Ron. “That was unprovoked, Malfoy!” he hissed.

“It wasn’t me!” Draco insisted.

“It was me. And it was provoked,” Sam commented dryly from the window. “Draco, come in and lock the door.” Ron tried to stand, but another gust of wind caught at him, keeping him down. “Whilst I have you like that,” Sam said, “Neither my sister nor myself is being groomed for anything. Draco is our guest, and under our protection. Wandbearers don’t have the monopoly on magic.”

He shut the window, releasing the winds, and Ron got to his feet swearing about unnatural magic. When he turned back to his own house, the red faced man was less than impressed to find Harry leaning against the door jamb, chuckling. “What?” he snapped.

“You did provoke it,” Harry informed him. “And much as I dislike Malfoy, he didn’t so much as draw his wand on you, or say anything inflammatory.” Ron said nothing. He just glared as he stomped into the house.

Sam found Draco curled on the floor just inside the front door. He lowered himself down next to him. Draco wasn’t quite sobbing, but there was a definite tremor in his shoulders. “What was all that about?” he asked quietly. “I’m gathering you knew him?”

“One of the golden trio,” Draco mumbled into his knees. “School rivals, I suppose you would call us. Seven years of backstabbing and fighting. I was no better than they were. In fact, I instigated a lot of it, early on. The dark haired one in the doorway was Harry Potter.”

Sam said nothing, so Draco peered up at him, turning his head to the side. “Harry Potter? Boy who lived? You’re not going to lambast me for not being his best friend?”

“I have no idea who Harry Potter is,” Sam admitted. “Not a wandbearer, remember?”

Draco realised that Harry probably wasn’t famous outside wizarding circles. Cassia had wizarding blood and had barely heard of Voldemort. “At least you have magic,” he pointed out morosely.

“I do,” Sam agreed, “though it’s all new to me. I only found out about it last week.”

That little snippet shocked Draco out of his self pity. “What?” he asked, stunned.

Sam smiled and stood, holding out a hand for Draco. The wandbearer was evenly matched with him for height, he noticed, but so painfully thin that Sam probably could have carried him. “Let’s have some breakfast, and I’ll tell you all about it,” he suggested.

He even managed to make Draco laugh, after a while.

 

***

 

Cassia discovered that she spent the rest of the day with people peering at her and shaking their heads. It took Hannah, her office mate and assistant librarian for the sciences to finally explain it to her, after one of the desk staff had peered and scuttled. “Everyone’s looking for some family resemblance,” she explained. “For a start, you’re dark haired, Sam’s blond.”

Cassia sighed. “I favour my father in looks,” she said, “and if you didn’t know better, you’d have thought Sam was related on my mother’s side. He has the colouring.”

“It’s going to take people a while to get used to, you know,” Hannah said. “He won’t be able to avoid it just by being off for a day or two. I mean, what are the chances of the two of you ending up working in the same place? You don’t even come from this area.”

“Coincidence is creepy,” Cassia declared. “And Sam will just have to live with it. He’ll be getting enough funny looks in Tortall anyway.”

She found an ally again in John, the Dean of the college, and of Trebond. He was fascinated by the idea of Sam’s ‘magical malnutrition’, and insisted that he was able to have any time off he needed. He knew how volatile stormwalkers could be, and no doubt the idea of an uncontrolled storm mage loose around the library was enough to grant some leeway.

He also had another suggestion. At first, his assumption was that Cassia had lost her lands and title to her brother, but even on learning that she retained the duchy, he insisted that it was only right that Sam should visit the fief.

“I haven’t been to the Lake in three years,” Cassia admitted. “It’s just too far.”

“A week there and a week back. I know.”

“At least,” Cassia grumbled. “I have no idea if Sam can ride.”

“Take two months,” John suggested. “Three, if necessary. This summer. All the undergraduates will be gone, and the roads at that time of year should be easy.”

“But we only get five weeks leave, not eight or twelve,” she pointed out.

John smiled. “What’s the point of being in management if I don’t get to make some decisions like that?” he asked rhetorically. “But I do have a favour I’d like to ask in return. It’s actually why I came to see you, before Connie waylaid me about Samuel.” He set the folder he was carrying under his arm on Cassia’s desk. “A prospective student for us,” he said by way of explanation.

Cassia gave him an odd look. She wasn’t anything to do with admissions. He nodded to the folder, inviting her to open it.

She read the details contained within it, her eyebrows rising. “How do you even convert Tortallan schooling into UCAS points?” she eventually asked.

“I have no idea,” he said eventually. “But I want to know what you think.”

Cassia flicked through the paperwork in the file. “Give me a couple of days,” she said. “I’ll ask around.”

 

***

 

When Cassia got home, she smiled to see Sam and Draco on the same sofa, one on each end, watching television and sharing a large bag of crisps. “Either of you started tea yet?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Sam asked.

“Tea. Food.”

“Can’t we just order that pizza thing again?” Draco asked. He’d found that he really enjoyed the cheesy muggle food.

“If you want to be the size of a house and very poor,” Cassia said. “I was thinking cottage pie. Unless one of you couch potatoes have started anything yet.”

“I can’t cook,” Draco said with a shrug. “That’s what house elves are for.”

“That’s what mothers are for,” Sam replied.

“So,” Cassia said, “you mean to tell me that I have the highest rank of anyone here, and I’m the only one capable of making food to keep me alive?”

“I suppose so…” Sam said. Cassia sighed.

“Come on, both of you,” she said. “Into the kitchen. If you live here, you learn to cook.”

She plonked a chopping board, knife and onion in front of Draco, and a pile of potatoes and a knife in front of Sam. “Draco, chopped, please. Sam, peeled and chopped up and in that pan of water.”

Ten minutes later, she’d managed to show draco how to peel off the papery skin of the onion and lost half the potatoes to Sam’s attempts at peeling. She banished them back to the living room, deciding that cooking lessons could wait until she had more patience, and not after a full day’s work and being peered at by her colleagues.

After dinner, she set Draco to washing dishes, much to his disgust, and sat Sam down on the sofa. “You need to call your mother,” she said, handing him his phone and disappearing into the kitchen to help dry.

Sam followed her. “I don’t want to call my mother,” he said.

“Tough. call your mother. By now she’ll be worried and scared. She loves you, Sam, loves you enough to try to keep you safe. Her plan backfired, that’s all.”

“I don’t want to talk to her,” he reiterated.

“Samuel, call your mother or I will do it for you.”

“Fine.” he held his mobile phone out to her. Cassia sighed. Well, she had said it. She flung the tea towel at Sam, and took the phone.

The number listed under ‘Mum’ rang twice. “Sam?” Katie asked breathlessly.

“No, it’s Cassia,” Cassia said. “Don’t worry, Sam’s fine. He’s just being a baby and refusing to talk to you. I thought you should know that he’s okay.”

“Oh.” The dejection in Katie’s voice was resounding.

Cassia wasn’t sure she really wanted this conversation. Her own parental experiences didn’t help much in this situation: an aloof mother who only showed emotion when drunk, and then it was crying; a father who wanted nothing more than to run from any duty- be it to his fief or his children. Only by thinking of her stepmother could she conjure up any of what Katie might want to know. “He just needs time, Katie,” she said. “It’s a major thing for him, and his gift coming to the front has thrown his emotions of of whack anyway. The kind of magic he has usually comes with a ready temper.”

“He has been snappy, the last month or so,” she admitted. “Is he… okay? Did I hurt him, taking away his magic?”

She could lie, Cassia thought. She could say that there was no damage whatsoever. She knew that was what Katie wanted to hear, but she couldn’t bring herself to betray Sam like that. “The healers say it affected his growth,” she admitted. “He’s smaller, shorter, than he should be, and some of his internal organs are smaller. He’s also still confused, but I think that’s more to do with being plunged into a whole new world than any magical damage.”

“Oh God,” Katie breathed, “I had no idea…”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Cassia assured her. “You did what you thought was correct.” She changed tack. “Have you spoken to Sam’s father?” she asked. “Sam said he was away for work.”

There were a few beats of silence on the other end of the line. “No,” Katie eventually admitted. “He doesn’t need to know.”

Cassia shrugged. “Your choice,” she sighed. She just didn’t think it was the right one.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8: Secrets and hidden things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really apologise for the messed up paragraph indentations in this one. I have no idea what's happened, but half of it seems to have just lost indentations... At some point, I will get round to formatting it correctly.

            It was almost nine o’clock when the pounding on the door sounded through Cassia’s house. She looked up from her book in shock, Draco jumped and Sam raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to get that?” he asked after a few seconds.

            “Maybe…” she hedged. “But it could be charity collectors.”

            They banged again. She sighed and went to answer the door. Not having many friends, she had few visitors, and even fewer unannounced.

            “Evening,” her dark haired neighbour greeted with a smile in his green eyes. “Am I right in thinking Draco Malfoy is staying with you?”

            “Yes…” Cassia hedged, unsure of the reasoning. She remembered that Severus had made it very clear that the wizarding world was not interested in welcoming Draco anymore, and given her new suspicions that this man (and his redheaded shadow) were wandbearers, she was unsure.

            “Ron here has an apology to make to Malfoy,” he informed her. Ron looked less than happy about this.

            “Not a fucking chance,” Sam informed them. “You are not coming in here to attack him again!”

            There was a lot of Cassia to catch up with here, she could tell. “ _Sam?”_ she asked mind to mind.

            “ _Redhead attacked Draco this morning,”_ Sam supplied back.

“Give me your wands,” she said after a few moments thought. If they had their access to magic taken away, but she retained hers, they were no match for her.

“What?” Ron exclaimed. “No way!”

Harry had already pulled out the slender, polished wand. “Do as she says Ron,” he instructed. He handed Cassia his wand with a wry grin. She took it, feeling the strange buzz she’d felt holding a wand before. It was almost a purr, as if it liked her, but she knew if she tried to call on magic, it would make a very pretty firework, burning up in the process. She’d gone through five before they decided to give up. Ron grimaced and glanced at Harry again. “Ronald…” the smaller man warned.

“Fine,” Ron huffed, and held out his own wand to Cassia. “But it’s not right. Why should you get the upper hand?”

“Because it’s my house,” she said firmly. Ron only huffed. She waved them both through to the living room. Draco had stood,, and was pressed against the wall next to the kitchen door, obviously ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Cassia sighed, and a turquoise shimmer rose up before him. “Since Draco is obviously terrified, that shield will stop anyone getting close to him,” she said.

Draco smiled weakly, but didn’t relax much. He wasn’t altogether sure of any magic, or it’s ability to protect him. Cassia picked up a cushion and threw it at him. He flinched, but it never hit, bouncing off the turquoise shield instead. “It’ll move with you, Draco,” she said gently. “You can sit down.”

He experimentally shuffled a little, and seeing the glimmer in the air move with him, perched on the edge of the sofa. Cassia waved Ron towards him, inviting him to speak, and then she sat, curling herself into her chair with her book. She pretended not to be aware of what was going on around her, but anyone who cared to notice would have realised that she wasn’t turning the pages.

Ron shuffled his feet self consciously, carefully not looking at Draco. He glanced at Harry. “Go on,” the brunette hissed. Cassia peered surreptitiously over the edge of her book at Sam. He was braced, his hands cupped in such a way that it would be easy for him to spellcast at any moment. He was learning quickly, she mused.

“I’m, er, I’m sorry,” Ron stuttered out. “I shouldn’t have gone for you like that when you didn’t give me any reason.”

Draco could feel all the eyes in the room on him, even though he refused to meet an of them, preferring to study his gripped hands in his lap. “But what I don’t get,” Ron blurted out, “is why you didn’t even draw your wand.”

A deep blush heated Draco’s pale cheeks, but still he didn’t speak around the lump in his throat. Sam couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “He has no magic anymore,” he said.

Draco gave one sob and fled, the air still shimmering around him. Cassia raised a hand, and the power returned to her. The door to Draco’s bedroom slammed.

“He _what_?” demanded Ron.

Harry was shaking his head. “I don’t think that’s possible,” he said. “You can’t just lose magic. It doesn’t work that way.”

Cassia finally put down the book she wasn’t reading. “Well, apparently it is, but no healers will see him because of who he is. So I’d really appreciate it if you two could either support him, or leave him alone. He’s frightened and all but defenceless.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll behave,” he promised, and elbowed Ron until the latter, too, nodded. Cassia held out two wands, holding them by the tips so the men could take the handles.

As Ron took his, Sam couldn’t help but say, “If I see or hear of you hurting him again, you’ll have more that wind to contend with.” Ron visibly blanched and troted out of the house rather more quickly than he’d entered it. Sam shut the door firmly behind he and Harry.

Cassia sighed and massaged her temples. There was a headache blooming behind her eyes. “I’m going to bed,” she told Sam. “You should think about i too, if you’re going to be up for work in the morning.”

“Tomorrow?” he asked, startled. “So soon?”

“Sam,” she said, standing, “I’m not your mother, to decide when you should or shouldn’t go to school. It’s up to you. But it won’t get easier. The longer you have off, the more people will be suspicious. You need to show that you’re managing as usual.” She didn’t even wait for his response before she went in search of painkillers.

Battle magic was really quite useless in the new world, she mused. Healing would have been more useful.

 

***

 

The last thing Cassia expected was to find Sam letting himself out of Draco’s bedroom early the next morning.. She raised an eyebrow, causing him to blush a deep shade of crimson. “He was upset,” he attempted to explain.

“I see,” was all she said. “You coming to work?”

“Suppose so,” he groused, running a hand over his sleep-mussed hair. “I’m up, so I might as well.” She couldn’t help a tiny smile when he went into the bathroom. The suspicion had always been that Sam was gay, but no one had ever been entirely sure. He could be just friendly to Draco, but she wouldn’t be surprised if there was something more.

Cassia had to steer Sam away from his car, telling him the walk would do him good. The nearer they got to work, though, the more worried he felt. Cassia finally stopped him when she felt his magic flutter out around him. “Sam,” she said firmly, turning him to look at her, “you need to get a grip. Did you meditate this morning?”

He shook his head. She suppressed a sigh of frustration. “You’re doing well, Sam, really you are. Exceptionally well. I had no idea you’d be able to have enough control over your magic to actually cast yet, at least not consciously. But your gift, it’s wild. It wants to control you, but you can’t let that happen. You have to control it, and meditation is the best way to do that.” She looked at him sternly until he nodded. “Okay, when we get to work, you take end minutes in my office to gather yourself, then you go to talk to Connie. I’ll come it you want.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, feeling a bit better. He’d been scared of facing Connie. The silver amulet he was carrying in his pocket dug into his palm as he tried to will his unruly magic into it.

            Draco was not only still asleep when Cassia and Sam got in, he was apparently comatose. Cassia dashed across the road and hammered on the door of number nine. A bleary eyed Harry answered, awoken from a late afternoon nap. “Severus Snape, do you know him?” she demanded.

            “Umm, yes…” Harry replied hesitantly.

“Can you contact him? Urgently? Draco, he’s not well, he’s fevered, I can’t wake him. I think it could be something magical.”

“I’ll try to floo Snape. If he doesn’t answer, I’ll send my owl.” He thought a moment. “We have a friend staying who’s training to be a mediwitch, a healer. Shall I send her over?”

            “Please!” Cassia said. “And thanks, too!”

            Hermione made over in five minutes flat, and after a brief introduction was perched on the edge of Draco’s bed. Sam hovered nearby, concern etched on his face. “Is now a good time to ask what you were even doing in his bed this morning, Sam?” Cassia asked.

            “Do you think I hurt him?” Sam asked, concerned. “Did my gift hurt him?”

            “I shouldn’t think so,” Cassia assured him. “Gifted people have been having sex just as well as the non gifted.” Sam was distracted enough that he didn’t even try to deny sleeping with Draco.

            “But maybe the gift and wand magic…”

            Cassia’s laugh sounded like a  bark. “I am going to assume that I was not conceived by turkey baster,” she pointed out.

            Hermione was performing a series of complicated wand movements over Draco, muttering to herself and furrowing her brow. “There’s something off here,” she said eventually. “There’s some part of him that’s resisting me, that I can’t read. It’s like a black hole in the diagnosis spells.”

            “You know his ability to do magic disappeared?” Cassia asked. “Maybe the part that used to control his magic is resisting you?”

            “Yeah, Harry and Ron told me.” she said, sitting back and shaking her head as if to clear it. “I did wonder that, but this doesn’t see like a part that’s missing- it’s more like something deeply hidden.”

            “Let me try, Miss Granger,” Snape said silkily from the doorway.

            “Door was open,” Harry whispered to Cassia. “He didn’t seem keen on waiting.”

            Snape swished his wand briskly over Draco. A shadowed turquoise aura glowed around the wand tip. “That’s the colour of my gift,” Sam breathed. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt him?”

            “The spell reveals hidden things, secrets,” Snape said. “It’s so murky precisely because it is hidden- I would be very interested to know what relevance your magic has here,” he said, fixing Sam in a steely glare. “But there’s something else. Something else feels wrong.”

            “Sam,” Cassia said, resting her hand on her brother’s shoulder, “What happened last night? I wouldn’t ask for details, except it seems very suspicious that he’s become so ill so suddenly, just after you spent the night together.”

            “We had sex, okay! Just sex!” Sam exclaimed, bright red, and rushed from the room. The bathroom door slammed and locked behind him.

            “Didn’t think Malfoy was the type,” Ron muttered to Harry.

            “Shut up, Ron,” Hermione muttered.

            Snape completely ignored the revelation that his godson was sleeping with a man he’d met two days ago. “Since there seems to be some residue of Tortallan magic, would a healer of yours be able to see to him?” he asked.

            Cassia nodded. “I’ll get someone,” she promised. There was always a Tortallan watching the portal from both sides, and the new world side kept a telephone. If she could get a message to Baird, he would send one of his healers, she was sure. She just hoped that it would do some good.

 

***

 

            Neal of Queenscove arrived almost three hours later. Sam had come out of the bathroom after an hour, but refused to talk to or acknowledge anyone. He drank the tea placed in front of him, but ignored the food.

            Cassia led Neal up the stairs and into Draco’s room, only half listening to him grumbling about the new world. He wasn’t fond of it, meaning she was particularly grateful to him coming here to help her. His father would have made his life unbearable had Neal not come, but she still appreciated it.

            Neal laid a hand on Draco’s forehead, his methods of diagnosis very different from the wand-waving earlier.

“He’s a chimera,” Neal said after a few minutes.

            “Fascinating as that is, what relevance does it have to the fact that he’s still unconscious?” Cassia snapped, her temper frayed and tiredness sapping at her energy.

            “Be nice, Cass,” he replied, earning himself an exasperated growl. “It’s relevant because his gift appears to be gone. He’s gone into shutdown to preserve his life.”

            “I think you missed something, Neal. That’s not the gift, he has wandbearer magic,” Cassia insisted.

            “Nope.” Neal said, grinning. “He has two full sets of genetics, perhaps some kind of vanishing twin. I can feel the wandbearing ability, and a gift, but it’s dwindling. Something- someone- must be tapping his magic. Also, he’s not exactly a he. He’s got a full set of internal female reproductive organs.”

            “What!” exclaimed Harry, Ron and Cassia all at once.

            “Fascinating,” Snape contributed, coming closer to the bed. “So he has two different sets of genetics, both male and female? He’s a hermaphrodite?”

            “Yes,” Neal confirmed. “And he must have come from a mixture of wandbearing and Tortallan stock, like Cassia, to be showing signs of the gift.”

            “There is no possibility of him having Tortallan blood,” Severus protested. “He is the product of two of the oldest and purest wizarding families- there is no chance of sullying of his blood,”

            Neal shrugged, choosing to let the insult to Tortallan blood slide.. “He has traces of the gift in his system, and he’s showing the classic signs of someone who’s overused their gift. I think he just needs to recuperate his magic, but to that, we need to find out what spells he’s still holding, or what is taking his gift, and stopping it,” he explained to Severus. Severus’s mouth tightened, annoyed at being told he was wrong. He knew there was no possibility that either Narcissa or Lucius Malfoy had any Tortallan blood.

            “Well, I suppose we should see if he’s holding any spells, then,” Cassia said. “Severus detected what looked like the Susannah Lake gift. Let’s see if I can top it up enough to bring him round. Here’s hoping I don’t have another sibling to contend with.”

            She settled on the edge of the bed and took one of Draco’s cold hands in her own. Once again, she was struck by the difference in healing and magic between the gifted and the wandbearers- the gift needed contact, the wandbearers were able to do everything from a distance.

            “Let me?” Sam asked quietly. No one was sure how long he’d been hovering in the doorway. “I want to help.”

            “Sam, love, you don’t have very good control of your gift yet. I’m not sure it’s a good idea” Cassia explained with a smile. “Come and sit by us, though.”

            Cassia had only shared her magic with another person a few times before, usually to prove that is was possible, or when another mage had been exhausted, but never with someone so depleted in their gift that they were unconscious. There was a strange resistance, like she was pushing through treacle instead of the usual smooth flow of one gift into another.

             Draco’s colour improved almost immediately, his always pale skin no longer looking ashen. In fact, he looked better than when he'd first arrived. He immediately shuffled himself into a more comfortable position on his side, sighed, and carried on sleeping.

            “Why isn’t he waking up?” Sam whispered.

“He will soon, probably in a few hours” Neal assured him. “That’s a natural sleep, not coma. He’s resting.” He shooed at the other people in the room. “I’ll sit with him tonight. Everyone, go to bed.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione decamped back across the road, but Severus took up residence on the longest sofa in the living room, determined to wait until he knew Draco was well. Cassia left him with a pillow and a blanket. It was harder to persuade Sam to go to bed. “Sam,” Cassia sighed, “this will go faster if you sleep. I’ll wake you if anything happens, I promise.”

Sam sat on the edge of his bed, visibly drooping. “How can I sleep?” he asked fretfully. “I’ve hurt him.”

Cassia perched next to him. “Sam, you haven’t hurt him. It’s so complicated, I can’t get my head around it, but you are not to blame for a biological anomaly which has been present since his birth.” She awkwardly hugged Sam from the side. “Look, I can make you sleep, if it’s easier. At least you’ll get some rest.”

“You can do that?” he asked, puzzled.

“Yeah. Sleep is a suspension of reality, in many ways. It’s easy for me to induce dream states which lead into sleep. I can even make sure you don’t have nightmares. Healers can induce sleep too, but only truth tellers can influence dreams.”

“That’s really scary, you know,” he informed her, deadpan. “Fine. Give me five minutes to get ready for bed, then do what you need to.”

Seven minutes later, Cassia slipped back into Draco’s room. Neal was reclining on the bed next to his prone patient, a book in his hands. “You can sleep too, you know,” he told Cassia. “I’ll wake you.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather not,” she said. “I can get by on little enough sleep.”

“Because you use your gift to top you up. Don’t think I can’t see it, Cass,” he admonished. By Tortallan law, Cassia was a little sister to him, since his father was her guardian. He felt responsible. “That’s not how it’s meant to work.”

“We all do it,” she pointed out. “Surely it’s just one of the benefits of being a mage?”

“It is,” Neal agreed, “until something like this happens.” He gestured down towards Draco, still asleep.

“I know,” she said quietly. “I’m fine, Neal, really I am.”

He huffed out his disbelief. “Come here,” he said, opening his arms. It was nice to be held for a few minutes, she realised. It was nice to feel safe, to let someone else worry for those few moments. Neal cuddled her silently, neither needing to speak. She enjoyed being looked after, and he thought of his own little daughter, only a few months old, and hoped that life would be easy and pleasant for her.

Beside them, Draco finally stirred, and blinked at the soft lamplight in the room.

 


End file.
